What Lay Beneath
by Olivia von Dread
Summary: She wanted to see those eyes, to search for something redeemable. F!Courier/Vulpes Inculta


_AN: Oh gosh, I'm absolutely the worst at keeping to schedule. School has smacked me in the face repeatedly, reminding me that since I'm a senior I have shit to do, and I have managed to accomplish it all (mostly) so I'm back with another story. It isn't anything particularly special; just a little F!Courier/Vulpes angst I was thinking of during a playthrough with a Legion-aligned character. I like the idea of Vulpes stalking the courier all around the Mojave, trying to understand what she does. This courier herself isn't all that tickled with the Legion but I guess that will be addressed in the story! Please review if you could spare the time, feedback keeps me running and helps me know how I'm doing! :D_

* * *

Tangled bodies in bed sheets strewn in every direction. Sighs and moans and whispered secrets to an unexpected confidante. Lips trailed down her flesh, sheen with need and perspiration. Eyes locked tight in ecstasy, his hand clasping hers. She could only feel the rhythmic thrusts, could only hear his heart beating fast in his chest, his mind belonging to her and only her every time they made love.

Every single time they met like this it never ended well for her. In the morning she longed to feel him holding her close, her back pressed tightly to his chest, an unspoken desire to never let her get away. But every time she awoke cold and alone, naked and wishing for something to give her peace of mind.

* * *

He watched her every day. There wasn't a single moment that she was out of his sight. He knew the things she did, how she went against everything he promoted, how her good deeds were praised by others in the Mojave. It was, perhaps, why he had come up to her in the first place. She was just so good, so forgiving, that it seemed worth the risk to start something like this. Something so right. Something that would get him killed, if anyone were to find out.

She was clean, pure, unadulterated by the harshness of the wastes. She never smoked, she never drank, never condemned herself to a life of drug abuse. The idea of something so unpolluted existing in a nest of profligates was surprising to him at first, and from then on it transformed into want, then lust, desire, then need. He needed to have it. He needed to have _her_.

She caught him before he could leave her again. "Do you always have to go so early in the morning? It would be nice to wake up with you here." She spoke low, half muffled by the pillow, but he could hear her quite clearly.

He sighed. "Yes. I must travel back to Fortification Hill today to report to Caesar." He fastened his armor to his chest, glancing at her. She was turned away from him, unwilling to watch him go, it seemed.

She didn't reply immediately. He worked on tying the laces of his boots in the dark. He finished before she spoke again.

"I wish you would stay sometimes. I've never been able to see the color of your eyes… I'd like to see them."

An odd request, even from a woman like her. He stepped over to the bed to run a callused hand across her cheek. "Of course you would." He left without another word.

* * *

She swallowed a sob, refusing to let the pain bubble in her chest. She hated these needs; the wanton desire she had for this man that was painted with cruelty. She almost wished he had never approached her. Almost. The thought of what lay beneath was enough to change her mind.

She watched the sun pour through the window in front of her, basking her in warmth where she had once been cold. But these were not the arms she had imagined. The sun had no pulse. The sun had no desire to be near her, and the sun most definitely was not him.

She wanted to see those eyes, to search for something redeemable. It was always too dark to see them, and every secret meeting they had left little time for thoughts of anything other than their own physical desires.

A tangled body in bed sheets strewn in every direction. Sighs and moans and whispers to a secret confidante still ringing clearly in her ears. The feeling of phantom lips on hers, smiling at her, telling her that no one was going anywhere, that they could leave this conflict, be done with this life. Eyes of an unknown color showing her just who he was, who he could be. It was no use wishing for what she would never have. She stood and began to dress herself, reminding herself that she should wash herself of all evidence of this encounter later. No one would ever know, no one would ever understand.

She was in love with a man she would never meet.


End file.
